


Nightmares

by blah_im_bored_with_life



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Beginner writer, Child Abuse, Constructive Critisism very much appreaciated, Could be a possible longer story, Manipulation, Physical Abuse, Short Story, This is trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27851046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blah_im_bored_with_life/pseuds/blah_im_bored_with_life
Summary: Ireland decides to go on a "adventure".Side note, all the character's names are randomly generated.





	Nightmares

“You stupid Bitch! I’m sick of your bullshit! Tell me the truth!” A beer bottle smashed against the wall, and a woman’s frantic pleading echoed through the house. Ireland woke with a start at the sounds, and then scrambled for her jacket, adding it on top of the two shirts, two pairs of pants, thick woolen socks, a thin sweater, rain boots, and gloves.

She then tip-toed to her window, waving away fruit flies and sidestepping the rat with one ear who scurried in her path. Ireland held her breath as she turned the crank slowly. When another beer bottle smashed, she jumped through the already broken screen, and ran as far away as she could in a random direction, weaving through alleyways, jumping over broken glass and needles, and dodging the cigarette butt one of the teenagers huddled around the burning garbage can flicked at her. Ireland squatted behind a bush to catch her breath.

She checked the time on her watch. It was three in the morning again. Ireland waited until her panting became normal breathing again, then stood up and examined her surroundings. She was somewhere near the downtown area, much farther than she would normally. She had gotten faster. Ireland checked her pocket for the kitchen knife she had added to her jacket's contents after a guy tried to jump her the last time she had an outing. She closed her hand around it as she passed by several stores, examining them and finding them empty.

Her eyes fell on a large 24-hour grocery store, and she hurried inside, hoping to find an empty aisle near where she could hang around until it got light outside and she could head to the library. “Picking up some groceries?” Ireland wheeled around, to find an exhausted-looking young adult watching her, his arms folded over the checkout counter. “Yeah.” was all Ireland could manage. The man ran his hand through his greasy hair. “A bit young to be out so late.” Ireland shot him her best adult face. “I look a lot younger than I am.”

The man adjusted his spectacles, then gave her his friendliest smile. “My mistake, then. I’m always too nosey for my own good, or so my sister tells me. But she’s not one to talk, herself.” He reached out one hand down to her. “My name’s Thomas, but call me Tommy, please. Thomas sounds so formal, don’t you think?” Ireland didn’t take his hand, still braced for trouble. When none came, her shoulders relaxed slightly. “Your name doesn’t suit you.” “How honest!” The man pretended to look shocked, and Ireland smiled despite herself. “What name would you give me then?” Ireland studied him, his tired exhausted smile, his shockingly red hair (obviously dyed), his dark eyes, his sunken cheeks, his thin arms, the way his uniform hung over his frame. “Fox.” The man smiled wider still. “Aren’t foxes not to be trusted?” “Yes.”

He shrugged at that. “Fair enough. Do you want something to eat? I’m supposed to go on break soon.” Ireland nodded, hand still on her knife. He opened a lunch container, took a bite of the sandwich, then handed it to her. Ireland waited until he swallowed the bite before eating any. It was tuna. Her stomach growled loudly. Tommy chuckled, and slowly picked up the other half. “Do you want this one too?” Ireland narrowed her eyes at him but nodded. He handed it to her without another question, then opened a textbook, and started taking notes. He didn’t say anything else for a while, so Ireland finished her sandwich,eventually sitting down behind the desk, having decided that at least for now, he wasn't going to hurt her.

The door of the store opened, and Ireland instinctively dove behind the counter. Big heavy boots, clumped in, and a voice that sounded as sweet as honey said, “Hello there, I’m so sorry to bother you, but I am looking for my daughter. She gets nightmares in her sleep, gets frightened, and runs away. We’ve tried to install locks on the window, but she gets through them all the same. I get worried about her running around this late at night. Have you seen her? She looks like this?” There was a rustle as Tommy took the photo and looked at it. “I’m sorry to hear that sir. It must be so trying for you to have your child run away.” Ireland curled into a ball under the counter and braced for the inevitable. “ She looks like a bright young girl. I’m sorry to say I haven’t seen her.” “Oh that’s all right then, just give me a call if you do!” Ireland nearly scoffed as he left.

Tommy looked down at her from the top of the counter. “Alright kid, so what is going on?” “Are you going to call him?” Tommy shook her hand emphatically. “Of course not, kid. Nobody runs away if everything’s ok. But I can’t help you if you don’t trust me.” Ireland leaned against a wall and sighed. She studied the ceiling as she deliberated her options. She looked at her watch again. “I’m going to be late for school.” She gave him a small smile. “Until next time, Mr.Fox.” She ran off, and he watched her go, sighed, and started packing up his things. He then noticed a scrap of paper folded and delicately placed in the bottom of his bag. He unfolded it, his eyes scanning across the pages, and he smiled himself.

“So this is my room? It’s so warm!” Ireland eagerly explored the room, examining and approving the bookcase stacked with children's books, the soft bed with an actual frame, the non-existent leaks in the roof. Tommy leaned on the doorframe, unable to stop a wide grin spreading across his face. “All yours. Now, your window is unlocked, but I trust that you won’t be having nightmares?” “They’re all gone, Mr. Fox.”


End file.
